


Safety Protocols (Walk in the Park)

by sunnyhomes



Category: Alien: Isolation (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-05 14:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyhomes/pseuds/sunnyhomes
Summary: It's time Amanda and Christopher talked about what's on their minds. And then do something about it.





	1. Prologue

"What does that feel like?" Samuels had always been curious about the sensations of skin. Nerves. A reaction to touch instead of an alert. “Let me know if I'm pushing too hard.”

"Mmph, there's no such thing." Amanda groans as he works his fingers into the muscles of her shoulder. “Just- ah! That's the ticket.” 

The synthetic sets his tea down to get to work with both hands. Woman melting over his lap, malleable as playdough. He can't help but enjoy himself a little.

“You know you shouldn't put so much strain on yourself. Your shoulder is one thing, but your back-” As if on queue, Amanda lets out a squark of pain as his fingers dig their way down the sides of her spine. “Won't be so forgiving if you so much as twist incorrectly.” 

“Then I won't twist.” Amanda hums, “as long as you promise to not stop what you're doing.” 

Samuels wouldn't dare as he replaces his squeezing with trawling fingernails up and under her shirt on her back. She sighs lightly and clenches her hands into the pillow under her head. Her breath is deep, pulse is up, and she's hot. Bodily warmer than the usual two to three degrees different from himself. 

_Is she ill?_

All evidence point to... not that. But something. Because there's no way she's thinking what he thinks she's thinking. It just feels nice, because maybe she hasn't thought about the possibility of anything else in a long time? Why would she? They routinely shower together after all, but given the lack of personal 'reaction' with far more discreet reasons in mind and complete control over that particular area, she had never seemed phased by the lack of physical activity. Never questioned why. Never found it a reflection of their relationship. So it couldn't be Samuels and his lack of pheromones, behavioral traits, everything that that exhibits a certain readiness to copulate. And that terminology, in itself, is another reason he's doubtful the reaction is stemming from himself. 

Hormones. Christopher settles the fact, nothing to do with him. The few days her body is priming to reproduce, which is also unfairly lost on him. No matter how many times they say you can’t- sometimes you really can miss something you never had. But Chris is at peace with what he is; and grateful for what he has. 

And right now, that's a definitely amorous human being in his lap. And only a small idea what to do with her. 

A sharp yelp catches his attention and Samuels' hands jump from her back. 

"Thats a friggin' knot!" Amanda wriggles away to stop distracting him. 

“I aplogise, I must have gotten carried away. Would you like me to work it out?"

Amanda shakes her head. "I... need to go shower." Her actions are a contradiction, huddling her right up beside him. She had to get up sooner or later, but her body won't move from the comfortable pocket Chris had let her into. “You know you could join me?” 

Samuels thinks that's a very bad idea, he may just freeze up and stop working all together. “I'm heading out soon too. I'd like to have lunch ready when you get home, and then maybe we could enjoy the afternoon. If you're not working, that is." 

“Nope! I should be home by twelve and then I'm all yours.” She leans on the back of the couch to kiss him. 

"Alright, my dear." Samuels kisses her again lightly, her pulse making him stutter, before she heads away to shower. 

Amanda had only just set the water to run before Christopher busies himself elsewhere, making mental notes of everything that needed doing. Repainting a scratch on the wall, cleaning the windowsils, finishing Bram Stoker's Dracula- alright but what if. What if it wasn't entirely implausible? To endeavour to be closer to Amanda. 

Christopher sits himself at the table and stares vacantly at his book.

Obviously he knew how it was done, he has knowledge of standard human activities. But there had to be some finesse to it that he wouldn't initially, and primally, be in tune with. If he's going to do it, which he'd very much like to, he needs to know he's doing it right. If doing anything was on the cards at all, assuming a lot of things are quite okay to even talk about and wouldn't just mess everything up. Mess... 

He blinks, remembers the rubbish needed to be taken out, curses his galaxy of a mind, and finds his page.

Amanda takes roughly forty five minutes in the bathroom, and Samuels, only able to read as much as his convincingly faulted mind had allowed him, spent the time bouncing between hypotheticals and reality. At some point he'd given up entirely and sat staring out the window. 

The day was turning nice, the leaves were greening and the thawed lake had at least two pairs of ducks on it. Ducklings in tow. Though it's still a little cold out, a picnic would be quite wonderful if the clouds over the horizon don't travel their way. 

Christopher stretches and scrunches his fingers, knocking one knuckle onto the table with resolution before something draws him back.

"Earth to Samuels, do you read me?" Amanda is dripping wet and wrapped up in a red towel as he snaps out of wherever he'd been. "I thought you'd be gone out by now. I'm getting changed and'll probably duck straight out, see you when you get home?" 

Her towel is ridden up slightly on one hip, sagging low at her back. Chris swallows down his words, not knowing exactly what sense they'd make if allowed to see light of day. 

God. Is _he_ ill? 

He blinks down the hallway. Ripley’s towel drops before she even gets to the bedroom and she slings it over her shoulder to take her hair down. 

That's it, Samuels thinks. He needs some fresh air.


	2. Communication

“Amanda?” Samuels has his stoic face on, and not in what is decided a good way either. But the 'you forgot to eat today' or 'I injured myself in the kitchen again' way. 

“Yeah?” She takes hardly a sip but a gulp of the red wine she'd absolutely needed after this morning. Never mind the fact it's barely 1pm on a Tuesday. 

"Could I speak with you about something rather personal?" 

“If this is about the day I've had, I would rather not get into it yet.” 

Although Samuels did find it odd coming home from shopping to Amanda laughing manically face down in the couch, refusing to explain herself, she did reassure him it was for very good reason. And that reason was joining her in the grave. 

He tended to agree it was for the best, the events that lead to her behaviour practically broke a human, he didn't know what it would do to him, so instead he set about preparing lunch. Vintage cheeses, cured meats, and red wine. Maybe a candle. They had to stay indoors since the weather had turned sour. Though it was still very romantic watching telle together, a little less huddled up than he'd like. But it was okay, Amanda seemed all of a sudden grateful for the space. 

It had actually been Dani and Walter, and the goings on that Amanda had interrupted by accident. They said visit whenever. How was Amanda supposed to know, with all that glass on the front of their home, they would chose the living room for their rendezvous. Of all places. 

Nakedness doesn't bother her. Her own or others'. But being confronted recently with synthetic equipment, and now with a possibility that a sexual relationship with a synthetic isn't miles out the question, that was a little rough on the shame machine. Dani's face had turned bright red and Amanda hadn't even the time to apologise before Walter landed his entire weight on her with a hefty 'oof', acting as some full body shield for her discretion. And Ripley, unable to move faster than her feet, had done a one-eighty before her brain even had time to catch up. 

Amanda still needed to apologise, but she couldn't just call them. She didn't have a phone- hated the damn things- and who would she use it for? Any contact she needed with The Office was over her tablet, and station-wide communications for any other work was done through headset. 

She'd have to drag her sorry self down there sooner or later. But for now, it's still tormenting her. Ripley cringes, wondering would anyone notice if she ran away to the southern hemisphere?

“It's not that I'm concerned about. It's about something else entirely.” When he finally responds, he, not knowing how wrong he is, looks to his glass abashedly. Conflicted. Perhaps overriding something internal. "I feel like an absolute fool. I'm sorry to bring this up out of nowhere, Amanda. I just noticed that you've been quite- well, you know.” 

The synthetic gestures as if everything had become apparent in the 'ta-da' of his hands.

"Oh, just say it." 

"Turned on?"

Okay, not what she was expecting. But she hopes he can see the bright side of the conversation. "Horny, Christopher. I'm only human." 

"Alright, you've been _that_ recently. And I'm under the impression in human relationships similar to ours, the respective partner can help with it?" He looks to the ceiling for help. "I'm not even sure if you consider this like your other real relationships, we are different, but my intentions are purely to help." 

Amanda ignores the ridiculous comment about 'real' relationships, of course it is, he knows that. He just wants to give her every opportunity. “Purely to help? It's none of my business, but I gotta ask. Is that why there was porn in my tablet history? Don't you know what a ghost window is?"

Samuels chokes on his respiratory fan and jerks forward like his spine just snapped straight, his gaze darts away, avoiding her like the plague. “That wasn't- well, it was but-.” 

"Like I said, it's none of my business!" She repeats quickly, patting the air reassuringly, it really was okay. Just strange she supposes, and not totally unfunny. "I don't care about it- I'm good. But are you, I don't know, watching it for a specific reason?" 

“N- no! It was an accident, I was just looking for a new pair of sneakers, how was I supposed to know what was in store for me at siliconeandsyntheticaccessories.com?” He rubs his brow. “I really did think I was going to the right place...” 

This had been an honest to goodness accident. The truth was he did know what a ghost window was, and he'd made use of it quite a while ago. Curiosity took hold of him in a way. 

What he'd seen online had left him disheartened, there had been speciality websites out there for synthetic/human relationships, if that's what you could call it. Not for support or guidance, but for marketing forced procuctions towards a niche audience. And to be completely honest, it made Chris feel a little (a lot) off. He was unsure if the synthetics in those videos had the ability to consent, or to feel at all. Obviously he doesn't sympathise with their microwave oven, but something so similar to himself, and more similar again to his new friend Walter, it makes him wary. 

The synthetics clunky and robotic, and the humans too excitable. Samuels finds himself hoping his and Amanda's so far fictitious encounters won't be anything like that. But they're different people, in love, and that has to mean something, right? A certain length of critically thinking code had disagreed since that day. Small but very damanding, giving him pause to consider that maybe she was part of that audience, that maybe androids were her thing? Is that why she likes him? 

No. It's insistent, but easily silenced with the fact they'd been together for quite a while, and to this day is still happy with just his company. 

“I'm sorry, Chris. I really, really don't care. It's healthy to be curious and get answers.” Amanda feels awful now for putting him on the spot like this, and never mind the fact she had wanted to use the tablet for the exact same purpose, once upon a time before they showered together; information. Samuels wasn't going to get the ball rolling; wasn't going to talk about it. So it was up to her. “Is there something else you want to talk about?”

“Yes, I suppose there is.” Samuels' eye contact is sweet, but a little bit different. Darker, now that Amanda knows what's going on inside his head. And not in a bad way. "The point I'm trying to convey is I never meant to offend you by bringing this up, just prepare in case you ever decided you'd like an intimate relationship. I wanted to avoid being a disappointment, in that aspect at least." 

"You sweet, sweet man." Amanda coos. "You could never disappoint me, in anything you do." 

"So, if I'm to be so bold, could I ask if you would-" he begins, reclining back against the chair at a conveniently safe distance. His eyes meet hers again with candour. "Ever consider being more intimate with a synthetic?"

"Intimate- like sex?" Subtle as a brick, in true Ripley fashion, and her partner looks as if he's about to start sweating. "And by synthetic, do you mean yourself?" 

Samuels nods once, sharply, a certain determination in his eyes. "It's against regulation to offer oneself out, especially if the question has partial selfish intentions."

"Selfish. Are you saying that you want to? Like it's not just for my sake?"

Another nod. Slighter, a little hesitant. He shouldn't want. Definitely not this, of all things. 

"Okay, well, yeah I've been thinking about it." She takes another long sip. "For a little while at least." 

Samuels, taken aback, cocks an eyebrow. "Why did you never say anything?" 

"I'm a biological mess of hormones and urges, through millions of years of evolution, I'm practically hardwired this way. And that's not something I can hide from you, and all your hippocratic technology. You know exactly when I'm feeling every way, so I just assumed you'd bring it up when you were ready. If you were ever ready, and if not, that's fine too!" 

"I'm bringing it up now." 

"Does that mean-?" 

"Yes." His response is deep, it cuts through the timid air about him. 

Ripley hadn't expected this discussion to go down so easily, she's almost waiting for the catch. 

"Samuels?" She pulls her legs up to cross them on the lounge chair, leaning over her elbows towards him. "Have you ever had sex before?" 

Christopher chuckles shortly. "I can't say I've ever had the occasion." 

"But you've been hit on, right?" Of course he has, Amanda thinks, look at him.

"Ah, yes. All of whom didn't interest me in the slightest. A few visitors to the office, a few crewmates. I do have the absolute right to decline, thankfully. The Company were fairly clever in assuring that, but there's no doubt in my mind they wouldn't have if they weren't terrified of the public backlash.” 

_Thank god, and_ "No kidding. Did they know you were synthetic?" 

"On the voyages? Yes. When I was approached at the office, however, it was a saving grace that an identical model came past. She had been so embarrassed, forgot her entire business being there and left. It's not really public knowledge or something to be proud of engaging with a synthetic. I was always inclined to believe it better to not do it than have someone regret it afterward." Samuels looks to his partner. "Is that a problem? That I have never been with anyone?" 

Amanda shakes her head a little too fast. Of course it isn't, she loves him, more than she thought she was capable of ever again. "No, no problem at all." 

"Then you're aware I know the in's and out's of it-" Samuels pauses in all the physical expression of a blush without the rosy cheeks. "I could have used a better idiom... Still, I understand if you feel a certain way too. It's still taboo of sorts." 

"It shouldn't be as long as it's consensual, right?" 

Samuels nods. "Indeed. But not everyone is as kind as you, my love." 

"Kind." Amanda receedes into the couch a little more. Samuels had a good way of making her forget she had to kill people. A lot of people. 

"Can I ask what will it feel like for you?" Amanda thinks he doesn't seem offended in any way, but Chris does jolt back in thought. Surprised to be considered. "You know what I'll feel, obviously. You have that knowledge. But I'm worried about you, just doing something for me. I don't want that."

"Amanda, even if it was just for you, I would still enjoy it. Probably more, actually. But serving is in my programming; you're very generous to worry about me."

Ripley laughs. "So you're one of those lovers?" 

"Perhaps for now." Christopher smiles a little sheepishly. “But if you're concerned, I can assure you I will feel quite a lot more than you'd expect." 

"What exactly?" Amanda is ultimately curious, and a better informed lover is a good one at the end of the day. “Tell me everything, if you want to- or everything you want to. Whatever.”

"Because I go by limited experience, I only really have so much information. Most of it in the files I was initially created with. Like, for example, I know what my sensory instrumentation allows for, so outwardly, I don't think I will 'feel' much. But I also know there is a governor in my software that will stop conflicting executions from frying my CPU. Which sounds far less pleasant than what I imagine I can expect. The executions will be of duty and pleasure, the strange balance between doing something because it's your duty and because it's something you want. Even if that want is for someone else to be satisfied. I suppose." He shrugs rather casualy. “Really, I feel as though even talking about this is revealing a lot to me about my own workings."

"Wow." Amanda nods slowly, it's not hard to wrap her head around this at all. 

She'd put a -bit- of thought into it in her private time, wondering if and where Christopher Samuels would feel anything like this, and more importantly, how she can use that to give him pleasure should they ever pursue a more sexual lifestyle. But how was she supposed to perform intimately on someone's programming? He said himself all he needs to do is serve, but that basically rules foreplay out of the question, for him at least. 

"Can I be a bit, uh, open for a second?" 

Samuels nods. "Shamelessly, of course. You can ask me anything." 

"If we were to start slow, which is kind of ideal, and I wanted to do something, something just for you. Would you not feel that in your sensory equipment?" 

"I would, but the visual is more important. I realise how strange this sounds. The thought of it, in a way, will cause a lot of havoc in my CPU. It's not bad, just the completely reversal of my nature to serve. But you don't have to, ever. I would get just as much out of pleasuring your body. If you were to then to pay even more attention to me, I'd feel like I'm taking advantage of you." 

Amanda laughs and Chris' eyebrows furrow, he wonders if he'd actually said something funny. 

Ultimately, he had, to Amanda at least. This is a talk she'd never lived through, not even in her earliest days of sexuality, and not with a human. Even her mother had vanished before she was old enough to discuss 'the birds and the bees'. 

"I've never had someone so concerned about using me before." 

Samuels brow furrows even further. "That's quite sad. I'm sorry." 

Ripley is still smiling, she waves her hand. "Eh, humans suck. Don't worry about it. But- but say I want to, y'know, do things for you. Would that be okay? Would you want me to?" 

Christopher supposes yes he would. "As long as you do, that's the most important thing. I suppose want is a strong word, but yes, I do want to be closer to you in any way. If that's alright..." 

They pause, a moment of realisation that they were actually talking about this. No longer just scenarios in Amanda's head anymore, but something very close to being a reality. It doesn't seem to escape her friend either. He raises his glass to his lips, perhaps to hide the smile. 

For as many nerves as she has, she can't help but be equally excited. Accustomed to selfish lovers, ducking out after the deed while she pretends to sleep, the prospect of something mutually satisfying is to look forward to. A healthy amount of communication beforehand. 

"Right, okay. Should we just wait it out?" She taps her knees. “Until it feels right?”

Samuels knows she's feeling 'right' now, and has been for a few days as well, but he's not going to make the first move even if he was able. "Yes, definitely. I- I don't want to push anything. But Amanda, you should know I'm incapable of initiation, for obvious reasons, so if you don't have a problem with it, would you mind-? Just whenever you're ready." 

“Obvious reasons?” 

“I'm incapable of acting on whims that could be dangerous. I have inhibitors in place for Safety.” He gestures dramatically to the chip in his chest. “Protocols that are a lot harder to get past than everything else we've so far encountered. It's not something I can push against, not without spontenious deactivation.”

“God, no. That's fine.” Amanda doesn't mind, as long as she definitely has his consent but she is curious. “Will it be like that every time?”

“No, they're adaptive when synthetics have a regular partner. Very regular.” 

Amanda's heartbeat skips. Very regular doesn't sound so bad. 

"Okay! First move is on me." Amanda touches her bottom lip, Samuels gaze drops to it. His pupils expand miraculously. "But just keep in mind, I'm okay if you want to let me down too, if it's the wrong timing or you just don't want to, please don't feel like you have to go through with anything." 

"Never." Christopher leans over and kisses her forehead, taking his leave to the kitchen to wash his glass. 

It seems a lot easier for Samuels to go back to daily business. Though the lack of hormones and primitive urges would be accountable for that. He glances at her from time to time, and Amanda doesn't know if she's suddenly just hyper aware of him, or he's keeping an eye out for any tell tale signs she might be trying to make a move. A few times his gaze on her had been something else entirely, of this she's sure. A contemplative burning look that told Amanda maybe he was enjoying what this waiting was doing to her. 

She knows the longer she leaves it the more nerve wracking it will be, but she still had things to get done today, at least. And even if the idea of Christopher propping her up onto the washing machine or leaning her over the study desk caught her breath, it wouldn't be convenient at all. Not for the first time anyway.


	3. Effective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you've wandered into the wrong neighborhood, this is your last chance to turn back now. If you're in the right place, however, Godspeed. _(Minimally edited work: there's only so many times I could read over this before my soul shriveled up)_

Ripley admits she can get a little lost watching Samuels. 

She'd cooked dinner against risk of a synthetic rebellion and his _"I've been doing nothing all day, please rest."_ , barely a celery laying on the chopping board diced. There was still enough time to mutineer the kitchen. 

"For the love of- Samuels, you have not. You always do so much you don't give yourself an inch of credit for. Sit your butt down and read your book." 

The "or else" had only been implied. Most likely something about re-coding the housekeeper out of him. 

Nowadays he listens every now and again, which seems well for him feeling and acting on his own whims in the bubble of their home. But it also instilled a touch of the devil in the man. He'd finished Dracula (and 'Other Weird Stories') and made his way up behind Ripley by the time she'd begun the dishes. Steaming peppermint tea in hand, a rather convincing (or conniving) kiss on her neck, and somehow deviously accommodated the absence of sponge in her grip with the mug. 

Amanda sits at the bar a little bit bleary eyed, wondering just how he managed to get away with it. 

The synthetic glances up, a smile flirts across his lips, knowing exactly that the human before him is battling with subliminal persuasion down to an art. It's not cheating, it's effective. He returns to the washing up, and Amanda would complain, but the view is incredible.

"Unbelievable. You're not getting away with it." There would be a way to get back at him. "Just in case you think you have."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Samuels is a picture of innocence. He plays the part well, cunning incentive isn't in his programming, after all. Yet here he is, a glint in his eye saying otherwise. “You work far harder than me, it's the least I can do." 

"I really don't, but thank you." Amanda strides around the island bench.

Christopher doesn't let her wriggle in between him and the sink, and with impossible speed he plucks the mug from her hand to washes it. Pushing his hip out so Ripley had no choice but get bumped away. 

"Chris." Her voice is playful under her warning growl. "I'm not an invalid." 

"You are many things, my love. But never that." He strips his hands of the gloves and turns to pat Ripley's hair down, kissing the top of her head. "Please relax, you know I'm happy to work for my keep, and with your constant reminders that I'm not furniture it only seems fair that I don’t act like it. Besides the fact I get a certain amount of enjoyment out of feeling useful." 

Amanda doubts it to her own self loathing, that his enjoyment being merely a program to serve, rather than actual fun. She feels guilty for thinking it, but figures it doesn't make it any less valid. Her own enjoyment being some primitive influence over her to seek things that simply feel good. 

Addiction, adrenaline, sensation. 

At least with Christopher, it is somewhat logical. 

"I love you." 

Samuels reacts a little strangely when Amanda wraps her arms around him, he's a little tenser than usual, hotter. The hands in her loose, day old messy bun, stop their stroking. 

There's something in her eyes Samuels had never seen before, and given the amount of time he spent looking at her, assessing her expressions and garnering knowledge to be a better emotional companion, he thought he'd seen it all. But this, her lidded eyes and rosy cheeks, an almost wolffish intent in her gaze, suddenly being double her weight and triple her strength, becomes irrelevant.

Chris backs up against the counter, pulling her with him, his pelvis is sandwiched between her hips and the marble. He feels her body heat seep into his waist as she steps up to him. His body ignites with realization. 

"Are you sure this is a suitable place?" Samuels leans back into Ripley's hand as she feeds it up his back. He's knows she's not starting anything serious, but there was something to be said for the wonderful comfort he felt in talking (let alone joking) about the subject. 

"I just want you for five minutes. T'say thank you." 

“Only if then you're actually going to relax and enjoy your evening.”

“Make me.” 

For the life of him, Samuels had nearly said 'make you what?' and something went very wrong in his core. 

The freeze seems to clear as her lips brush his own. Soft and gentle, fingers pressing into and pulling him forward by the muscles at the small of his back. Amanda wonders if this is the most tender kiss they'd ever live trough, hoping it wouldn't be the last. It melts her, makes her stomach flutter as Chris lets out a small moan. It mightn't even have been that, but a very satisfying, rather dramatic sigh as he presses a harder against her. 

Amanda deepens into the unnecessary grasp of air from the synthetic. Her tongue taking its time on his lips to draw out his in the pushing and pulling, bridging with a delicate kind of fear like nerves or hope between them. The taste of mint, a tang of salt and wet iron; it makes her heartbeat spike, not at all unnoticed by her partner's handfuls of her chest. She scolds herself internally, feeling a little purer than for a long time. 

Ripley bites down to regain control of herself, of her dominance, and abruptly they stutter apart. Christopher sucks his bottom lip, the feeling of her bite lingering. 

“Amanda, this isn't fair on you and I'm sorry." He acts as if he'd done something unpleasant to her. Like something was his fault. Even though she had technically initiated with no alarms signaling otherwise, serious concern deepens his voice. "I know you want to wait a little longer before we take the big step, as do I, but- but if you'd be willing, could I try something?" 

Her heart skips and she looks to the hands sneaking down, raising an eyebrow. 

"Oh Samuels," Ripley teases in a mock accent, "are you so bold?" 

He doesn't laugh, though the mischief in his smile is telling enough. 

"What do you have in mind?"

Christopher picks her up by the hips- he'd been getting very good at that- and sits her down gently on the counter top, sliding himself between her thighs. Her knees stroked tightly against his waist. There's no trace of the woman's smile, now determined only with a mess of urges as she leans forward to take Christopher's neck between her teeth. The way his central processing unit reacts to the 'violence' is muted by a far more authorized stimulation of duty-within-reason, would be considered very satisfying. 

"Hey." Amanda is laid back softly by his kisses on the bar, propped up on her elbows. "Are you sure you're okay? You want to do this now?" 

Samuels pauses for a second, briefly a ghost of worry. "We're... not going to be having sex yet, are we?" 

"No! Uh, no. I mean this, any of it in general." Amanda was absolutely ready for the next stage as much as the adrenaline sends her into shivers about it, but she'd never had this slow burning progression of intimacy before. Starting slow was good in her opinion. "I just, need to know, if whatever we do is something you really want." 

"Of course it is. Apologies, it's not that I don't want to progress things further, I'd just rather wait and enjoy some other things first." He looks a bit relieved and Amanda silently blesses his heart. "If that's alright."

"Definitely." 

Between kisses Amanda manages Chris' shirt up over his head, chuckling at the tangles of him now arguing with her own jumper. Finally free, they're upon each other's bodies in a second as if they'd been deprived of touch. From underneath Amanda's singlet, her bra is unlatched, cast away to join it's comrades; a soft hand takes up it's place against her breast. The aesthetic of clothes on the floor identifies between chaos and almost pornographic within the android; confliction of abandoning his very roll of creation to desire- partially selfish, curious, desire- only makes his drive stronger. 

Samuels slips his fingers into the hem of her jeans to cup her backside, they're willing to be wriggled down. Amanda's hips roll, easily stripping the denim away to leave her skin against the warm silicone hips of her lover. 

She tries to sit back up but Chris pins her gently, more of a suggestion than a command, a careful hand sliding down out of her singlet. His fingers inch downward to brush over the front of her underwear. Suddenly she's quite glad she chose to wear the only ones with a modest amount of lace at least. He might not even realize, but her confidence does. 

Christopher watches her closely as she reclines, her eyes drift closed, breathing herself into relaxation. He considers how complex it must feel, no coded pathways, no direct programs. It's so- raw, he supposes. She's not exactly under his control, but this, what they're doing- what _he_ is doing- is making her body react uncontrollably. 

He brushes his thumb over the front of her panties and she lets out a soft gasp. She's warm against the icy bench, but this being so sudden, he can't expect her body to be truly ready. Christopher kisses along the inside of her thigh, feeling her legs tense as he draws closer, so deep he knows she can feel his breath. An automatic response to such situations, his chest is ventilating, hard and slow. Hot air against her tense thighs as she shakes to bring them together. 

Samuels' eyes dart up as he places a kiss against the elastic line of her underwear. Amanda's chin lifts, encouraging, a stifled moan is nearly disguised by the creak as she grabs the countertop. 

The side of her underwear is pulled over carefully and suddenly she feels compromised, a little bit too bare in the kitchen light. 

She glances down. Samuels catches her eye and a reassuring smile tugs at his lips. The tip of his thumb in his mouth, glossy and well lubricated. She remembers reading, hearing, something- somewhere- that all synthetic's clear bodily fluids are made from a small portion of saline and water. Nothing harmful to her, or any part of her for that matter. Amanda's heartbeat spikes and he picks up on it immediately.

Chris' hand comes to rest on her inner thigh, barely an inch from it's intended mark. 

Samuels looks a little darker in this light, like he was never as good and innocent as he made her believe. Ripley knows he didn't lie, he'd truly never had sex, or sexual relations, but it's obvious just how much Chris had really thought about it. He's all but on fire inquisitively, but he still stops. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I guess it's just-" it's silly, she's definitely not celibate and she might have even been in this exact position before, with someone she probably didn't give two shits about no less. But this is something very healthy and paced and exciting and- "nerve wracking." 

"We can stop." Samuels says kindly, the look of desire from before has vanished completely, a sweet gaze in its place. 

Amanda collects herself. She's fine, really, and she does want this. _It's just been a while._ And it's possible it might be a bit too much all at once. This, though, is slow and loving and she takes a deep prepared breath, "I don't want to stop." 

Christopher nods, clearly of the same mindset. His hand pushes her shirt up to expose her skin. He leans over, kissing and biting her skin in a soothing leisurely way, his fingers drawing closer. It sneaks under the elastic, rubbing the side of her, with each stroke he find his way towards her entrance. Thumb playing in a circle over it's mark, he waits for any sign of discomfort. 

Amanda freezes as he pushes forward. Her breath hitched, back arching off the counter in the most remarkably animalistic way. He enters slowly, a bit at a time. His first knuckle disappears and the rest of his thumb follows, wetting the digit substantially.

Her heartbeats spikes as she's withdrawn from and deeply explored again, barely a calm gasp escaping, but he knows now it's normal and she trusts him enough that she can say no at any time and everything will stop. So slow it is, until he knows she'll be okay. 

Stroking the inside of her encourages a long relaxing moan. A short "oh god" under her breath, and he moves down, biting the inside of her thigh as he builds the pressure. 

She lifts an arm over her head, her grip twisting the counter as Samuels moves in and finally out, wetly brushing his thumb upward over her clit with a small jerk of pleasure on it's way to tugging her panties away. She lifts her hips. Sliding them off easily, they comically hang from the top of her ankle over the synthetics shoulder. Her humour only lasts long enough to witness an finger trailing down, pausing at the crook of her legs, massaging it's way in with a weighty lean, unexpectedly breathless as he adds another. 

The synthetic uses his free hand to lift the calf over his shoulder high enough to still reach a handful of her breast. Maybe a little too hard. Maybe just right if going by the lurch of her back and the moan, somehow managing to be desperate yet fraught with some unfathomable satisfaction. The nipple pinched between his index and middle finger is firm, the skin burning from his tight grasp. He leans closer and takes it between his lips. Tongue flicking against the ache of her skin with forgiving wetness. Ripley's white singlet slightly dampening as his pace of tongue and digits sends her into tense writhes. 

Internally messy, Christopher's single focus among a nebula of white noise is leaving him admiring the tan dewy canvas of a woman. Flushing red and beaded with sweat, his hand trusted unreservedly to be between her legs. To do this. He lets out a low groan, biting satisfyingly hard into her waist. Not painfully, he couldn't do pain, maybe ever. But enough that he squeezes around his thrusting fingers. So hot and getting closer. Pinned under the weight of his torso as it reacts alike. Burning. Tight. Almost unbearably so. 

She needs to come to release this feeling, And Samuels knows if he stops withdrawing and thrusting- though counter intuitive to the human bodies natural instinct for the motion- if he fills Amanda, his stroking high and forward, thumb drawing circles against her- 

"Ah! Chris!" Ripley's leg tenses over his shoulder as she throws her head back, her free hand tangles through his hair. 

Samuels bring his arm around, up the curve of her back. Steady and strong enough to lean fully onto it. She does, the thrumming of his fingers inside her, the uncontrollable jolts of clitoral pleasure vice the man tighter between her legs. 

"Chris, I'm-" Amanda feels her body backtrack a few notches. She'd never been one for vocalizing her pleasure, and the pause to speak is a slight distraction in this whirlwind already, but this was also for his learning. "I'm going to-!" 

She takes a sharp breath in and holds feverishly as his thumb pushes down harder. Faster. Heat and density in her body fluctuating like a lava lamp. Christopher grabs the stray hair falling over the back of her neck and feathers kisses up her chest. 

"Come for me." Momentarily, his voice is demanding and dominating. Amanda feels heat growing inside her, teasing, she wonders indulgently if he has more of that in him. 

Believe her, men have tried to talk Ripley into submission, it had been laughable mostly. Samuels, on the other quite wonderful hand, could just as easily ruin her with a finger (or two) than he could crush her without use of his full potential. It was frightening, but knowing all that strength was put to use, right now, in this way- the devastating muscle, the calm and collected resolve; they're playing her body like an instrument, precise and delicate. Amanda's breath hitches and she doesn't manage to subdue the mewl with the back of her hand. 

"I want you to come for me." He's soft again, coaxing, and Ripley can feel her core begin to melt. 

Amanda feels heat pouring into her, leaving her skin within the initial ice cold tingle of boiling water, right before the burn sets in. Euphoric surges tighten throughout her whole body. Sensitive to the hair slipping out of her grasp, the warm arm sliding out from under her back, the fingers mercifully delaying the final tide of orgasm with luxurious strokes. She lays onto the refreshing cool bench, kisses dotting her stomach like a branding iron. 

Christopher feels heat trapped in his core vent suddenly, the sight of Amanda pulsating on the counter like he would imagine the swell of the ocean. Unpredictable, raw and natural, beautiful. His fingers appreciating the gentle thrumming of her orgasm. Bodily intoxicated with ecstasy. He feels successful. His job complete. But strangely enough, contrary to expectations, he doesn't quite feel satisfied. 

Sure, Samuels could go about his day after this moment with this memory so vivid and new just fine. But there's more to this, he tells himself. Not for him, perhaps, but for anyone else with a human born form. 

Amanda shudders as Chris gently withdraws his fingers. “I'm-” She has no idea what, where, who, she is. Not anymore. Not as, without looking, compulsively or with uninhibited curiosity, her lover places the tips of his fingers in his mouth. Her whole body seems to take in another very agreeable breath in and she has to swallow it down. Hard. 

“How are you feeling?” Samuels doesn't think Amanda seems to mind her wetness on her skin as he wraps his arms around her bare waist. 

She pushes the damp hair from her face, replying with a decadent moan. Raising her leg so her underwear falls back down and Chris is happy to help get the other foot through, his smile all but proud.

She sits up, arms relaxing around his waist and she feathers small kisses along the outer line of his neck. Nipping the faux tendon at the shoulder, Samuels breathes in sharply. “Mm. It was...” 

He fills the silence with anything- modesty in Amanda's opinion. “Effective?” 

“Yes, that. Definitely that. Thank you." Is probably the second worst thing to say after the deed, (the first already being claimed by Samuels) but her partner seems to think it's a pretty good mark. She laughs. "Can I do anything for you?"

Samuels is just as relaxed as she. "You know I can't reach orgasm, that requires nerves. You've already done everything you can." 

"Isn't that frustrating?" 

"Not at all, it's actually quite wonderful. Knowing that you're satisfied is all I need." Christopher sees the rise to challenge in her eyes. "You can explore me all you want. But, I'm quite happy with today how it stands." 

Ripley is too. She would love to sit him down somewhere on the bed or edge of the bath, but the length of time and strain to come had left her slack. Like a cherub reclining on a cloud. Tomorrow. Or the day after. Literally whenever Samuels wanted to. As for now- 

"I think I need a rinse. Coming?"

Chris stands back and holds her hand as she drops from the counter, landing wearily on her shaky legs. He can't help but bite down against the smug grin. That was definitely feedback enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here it is (sorry). One for you keen buggers out there. The very first of many healthy, loving, mature, and sexually adventurous chapters. The next update will probably be in a few weeks with me still uploading WitP at the same time. Please be gentle in the comments, this was my very first explicit fic :U
> 
> (Also, why do these two dorks always end up in the shower?)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! And I am sorry in advance for what has become soft, hard, romantic, shameless, minimally edited on-the-side-smut!
> 
> Dedicated to my wonderful girlfriend DRC- Lemon_Jack-who I met through Walk in the Park, and written for her birthday last year right before I went to Nepal and our adventure really began. <3
> 
> Two more real chapters will be up in the next 24 hours and then will just be scheduled updates! Feed me comments and kudos and I'll do tricks like upload more :P Thank you for reading so far!


End file.
